


Tales of the Storm: bonus scenes and prompt fills

by Lizardbeth



Series: Tales of the Storm [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Multi, POV Change, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- Loki and Hilde during Hail of Shadows<br/>- Sigyn's POV of a scene in HoS<br/>- Loki, SIgyn, and Frigga rest after the storm has passed<br/>- Loki/Sigyn after a bit of jealousy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loki and Hilde

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to have a place to put Understanding the Storm 'extras' that are little ficlets I've done for prompt fills at my Tumblr (lizardbeths.tumblr.com). 
> 
> They won't mean much to you unless you've read the series through Hail of Shadows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Hilde in early _Hail of Shadows_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested for a tumblr meme, by [ 100indecisions](http://archiveofourown.org/users/100indecisions) !

 

* * *

**Loki and Hilde, during _Hail of Shadows_**

 

Loki held the memory crystal in his palm, activating the lattice and information stored within. The display hung before his eyes, fire-wrought letters in air, and he scanned the contents, searching.

Celestials. Eternals. Thanos. _Something useful_.

Vaguely he heard movement in his room behind him, of soft steps and clink of dishware and knew they'd brought his dinner. He kept reading, not willing to put this one aside until he knew it was of no use.

Yet the servants didn't deposit his tray and leave as they normally did when he was busy, and the oddity of the behavior distracted him. He put down the crystal and blinked himself back to the present, before turning his head, ready to demand why there was someone still in his room.

But he saw Hilde, and the words died on his tongue. She was the chef who made his meals in her own separate kitchen, and he hadn't seen her since before Jotunheim. She was dark-eyed like Hogun, and her hair was reddish-brown like Volstagg's which had led Loki to tease them on more than one occasion that she was their daughter. Frigga had chosen her to cook for Loki, because she saw his dietary restrictions as a challenge and because she was an artist with food, but mostly because Hilde cared for the skinny little boy with the strange food needs.

She saw she had his attention and bowed her head to him, "My prince."

She had always been kind to him even when he had pranked her terribly and had never faltered in keeping his food safe for him. His hand curled tightly around the crystal again, and he tensed, wondering what she had been told. He didn't want to look in her eyes, fearing condemnation or wariness. Perhaps she had come to resign her position. But when he darted a glance toward her, her smile seemed genuine, so after a moment, he relaxed and stood in respectful greeting. "Hilde. We have people to bring my tray. You need not do it yourself."

"I wanted to see you," she said. "Now that you are well again." She tilted her head to regard him and her brows knitted in concern for what she saw. "But not fully well, I think. You are still thin."

"I'm always thin," he retorted.

"Not like this. I will grind more hazelnuts in your morning fruit puree."

"If you do that then Munin will smell them and follow me _all day_ to beg for treats," he complained, grinning.

"Then you should eat one every time you give him one."

"He'll get fat."

"The king's ravens are not my concern, you are. I have noticed your dishes are coming back barely touched." Somehow her disapproving glower at him made him want to squirm more than even his mother's did.

"I am quite busy." He gestured to his work table, at the crystals and books piled there, while wishing he'd thought to unmake some of his food so it would look as if he'd eaten more of it. "And not often hungry. It is nothing to do with the food, which is lovely and delicious as always."

The compliment and ingratiating smile got no play with her, as she shook her head once. "You must eat, my prince. We are a hardy people, but still, we are at our strongest when well-fed." She gestured him to the other table where his dishes sat, the food still covered. "I made some favorites to tempt you. I will serve."

He wanted to do more research, but Hilde was plainly in no mood to let him return a half-eaten tray this time. And perhaps a break would do him good. "I cannot resist special favorites, can I?" He moved his chair in front of the food. "But I will serve myself, and you will sit with me, while I admire what treasure you've made this time."

"Flatterer," she chided, but she was smiling, and she joined him.

"Tell me all the good rumors of Asgard since I …" he hesitated, and his insides clenched up and felt cold, "...went away."

His appetite fled at the reminder, but he removed the covers anyway, determined to let Hilde's stories of palace gossip distract him. For a few minutes, at least, he could pretend all was well.

* * *

 

Coming next: Sigyn's POV on HoS Chapter 16, when Loki has the vision about murdering Frigga

 


	2. Sigyn's POV on Hail of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn's POV of Chapter 16 of _Hail of Shadows_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [zhusanna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zhusanna)'s request for a tumblr meme...

* * *

Sigyn waited in a nearby room, as Thanos continued his foul work at the end of the hall. Another chilling cry echoed to her ears, and she closed her eyes in helpless sympathy at the utter devastation in the sound. What had that creature wearing her brother's face done this time? 

Thanos laughed – Malekith's voice and yet not her brother's laughter – and he rumbled something to Loki. She couldn't catch the specific words but the tone was triumphant. Soon after, Thanos' heavy step left the room and she pressed against the inner wall, hiding as he passed by. The guards followed him and headed for the stairs. She waited until she was sure he was gone, and hurried through the arch of the entrance into the round room where Loki was being held.

She hated this place. Her brother called it his work room, but it was truly a torture pit, where he experimented on his prisoners, using the runes and sigils laid in the floor around the altar. 

Loki lay there now, hands locked to the base of the stone, collared, black hair in tangled waves hanging nearly to the floor. The revelation of his blue skin still surprised her; who would have thought Odin the Butcher could give mercy to an enemy baby? She'd have guessed he would spear it to death, not take the child home and pretend it was his own.

But Loki was different from what she had expected, too. She'd thought she could torture this enemy of her people without much qualm at all. But all too quickly he'd gotten under her skin, until she realized this wasn't what she wanted. 

Not this, certainly. Not seeing his face riven in anguish, as tears flowed from his closed eyes. His chest heaved for sobbing breaths, and when she got close enough she heard only his soft repeated whispers of "No, please, no, no..."

The despair in his words reached right inside, squeezing her heart until she could barely breathe. Whatever Thanos had done, whatever Loki was seeing in this vision, he was suffering.

"Loki?" she whispered, hoping to draw him out of it. He didn't seem to hear. 

Then, something did change, but for the worse. The sobs tapered off, his breathing slowed, and his face smoothed out. His eyes opened slowly. But he wasn't calming or returning to awareness; instead, it was like watching him fall in a hole in slow motion. He dropped away from her, his eyes blank. 

"No, Loki, no, it wasn't real," she murmured, leaning over him. "Don't think it was real, come back. It was only a dream, not real." 

But he was lost, emotional pain finally breaking him where physical pain had not. She needed him alive, to help her fight Thanos and get Malekith free and her people not at the mercy of this creature. "Loki?" She touched his shoulder, smoothing her fingers along his collarbone to the hollow of his throat, beneath where her brother's cruel dampener pinched his neck. She wished she had a key or some other way to open it, but it was sealed by Malekith's sorcery. 

Under her fingers, Loki's skin was soft, with dark markings replacing the harder ridges of the Jotunn, as if he was more a hybrid like herself and not a full-blood at all. He should not have been so easy to touch; he was an enemy, a destroyer, all things she should hate, and yet... all she wanted to do was help him. And touch him. She pulled her hand away before she surrendered to the temptation to caress his chest and the hollows of his abdomen.

"Loki? It was not real," she whispered in his ear. And when that got no response, not even a flicker of his eyelashes, she smacked his cheek lightly. "Loki!" 

He blinked, some awareness returning, and even so, his brow knitted in renewed pain, as if he still saw whatever horrible memory Thanos had given him. "Come back," she cupped the side of his face, fingers smoothing his hairline. "Here, Loki, see me, not whatever nightmare holds you in its grip."

He blinked again, having trouble focusing his eyes to see her, and his voice was a child-like question, seeking reassurance, "It was not real?" 

Seeing the devastation in his face made her want to cry, too. Whatever it had been, had crushed him utterly. She shook her head and brushed the tear-tracks from the sides of his face. "No, only a terrible vision Thanos thrust upon you. It was not real." 

He seemed to believe her, but it didn't help much, as he tried to get himself calm again, but still was caught in the inflicted horror. She wanted to ask what it had been about, but that was probably the least of their worries. The longer Loki was here, the closer Thanos came to shattering him so entirely he might never recover, win or lose. She had seen too many of her brother's victims be strong until Malekith had found the right leverage and then they were lost, and she did not want that to happen to Loki.

"I need to get you out of here." 

They argued about how to do that, and she was horrified at his suggestion that she kill him. But in the end, reason prevailed and she would fetch the Casket for him.

She leaned down, as she looked into those eyes that could be bright as fire, yet also dim as an ember. Right now he seemed to be holding his breath, watching her as if she were some magical creature, a Valkyrie as he had named her perhaps, come to take him home. She wanted to tell him she was nothing so grand, a half-breed freak in a family of cruel, insane warlords, yet somehow, in that gaze, she felt like more. She said her soul was lost, but he was right; she had found it here.

Her fingers caressed his cheek, and she leaned recklessly close. His breath merged with hers, and she closed her eyes, wanting to touch her lips to his. But she pulled back, keeping her hand on his face so he would know this was not because she had no wish to touch him, but because she had no wish to do more in this cold and miserable place. Their first kiss would not be when he was shackled and could not respond of his own will, or touch her in return. 

"Now I owe you a kiss, Loki Silvertongue. You may collect it, if you wish, when we are both free."

Perhaps that would give him hope and a reason to endure. It seemed to, as he looked disappointed and then smiled, as if he was thinking that he intended to collect on her offer. But he said nothing, and she wondered if it was because she'd shocked the Silvertongue right out of speech.

She squeezed his fingers briefly and promised, "Hold on, I will return." 

And she would keep that promise, too. She would be quick and careful, and take the Casket from Malekith's chambers and then, all their fortunes would change.

* * *


	3. After the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a possible future, Loki and Sigyn rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by request of Tumblr user- thelightofthingshopedfor Loki/Sigyn "I think you missed your calling".

* * *

In the mountains, the air was crisp with a hint of frost, but the tangle of vines that had wrapped the central fountain was still flowering. The lodge had been left untended long enough the wilderness had crept back over the grounds, in a strangely abundant sight to Sigyn, used to the bleaker landscape of Svartalfheim. On the other side of the low wall, Frigga's voice floated pleasantly on the air as she sang, coaxing the plants into more becoming directions. It was difficult for Sigyn to believe that the armored battle queen and sorceress she had first met was the same woman digging the dirt like a farmer.

It was easier to believe that Loki was the same, even though he looked different with this Aesir guise. He was sleeping on the wide stone rim of the fountain, in echo of being chained to the stone in Svartalfheim.

Sigyn's gaze settled on him, a warmth in her chest of relief that he was finding quiet rest; indeed, that he was here at all. 

Sitting on the bench beneath the grape arbor, Sigyn rested a drawing pad on her lap and took a graphite stick in her hand. She sketched the tangle of green and violet flowers hiding the carved motifs of the base and the central statue of four stags that would shoot water from their antlers if the water were running, and the godling sleeping among it like something out of an ancient saga. 

Her sketch grew in detail, shading in the black tendrils of hair falling to curl among the vines, and lingering on his face, which was turned toward her, and the lines of his throat visible above the collar of his tunic. The golden, angled light was kind, softening his features, still so gaunt from all that had happened. She remembered how he had looked on Svartalfheim - Frost Giant skin, bare to his hips - and she licked her lips, wishing she could sketch him like that instead.

The more she saw his Aesir guise, the more she thought it was beautiful, too, in its own way. But she hoped she could convince him to show her the truth again.

Drawing his hands was difficult. She erased them and tried four more times until she had something that finally looked like hands, but still failed to capture the essence of his hands.

"Hmmm," a thoughtful voice purred at her ear and she started violently, looking wildly between Loki's face close to her shoulder and where he was lying on the fountain, unmoving, still asleep.

He chuckled and the image on the fountain faded with a golden shimmer until the bench was empty. 

"You!" she exclaimed and nudged him with an elbow, but she couldn't help a smile and shake her head at herself. "I should have noticed when you cast."

"You were concentrating so hard an entire herd of hippocamps could have danced a jig and you would have missed it," he teased, then rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at the sketch. "I think you missed your calling. This is lovely," he murmured, more serious now. He tapped the picture with a finger. "Is this truly how you see me?"

She glanced at his face, unable to tell whether he thought she was flattering him or the opposite. "Tired, troubled, but beautiful and strong," she whispered. "A weary god of wild things, of thorns and leaves, of the autumn and the moon… Of things that were thought lost but linger in the twilight. That is what I saw."

His eyes met hers, and though his lips parted to speak at first he said nothing, only drew his fingers delicately down her cheek. "You have great skill to draw it, and a generous heart to see me thus." 

She murmured. "You cannot see yourself; but I see truly." She lifted a hand to push her fingers through his hair and hold his head against hers, offering her touch more than the words for a truth for him to hold in his heart. "You looked so peaceful. I'm sorry if I disturbed your rest."

"No, I quite enjoyed knowing you were drawing me," he answered with a flash of a grin and turned his head to whisper in her ear, "I will be pleased to pose for you again, wherever you like." 

The suggestive tone of his voice made her shiver. "Is that so? I think I should like that very much…" 

His fingers sunk in her hair to hold the back of her head, as her lips found his. The drawing pad fell to the ground, unheeded.


	4. green-eyed monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for a drabble prompt meme at Tumblr, for mistressofasgard

“Well, if you’d rather dance with Fandral, I certainly have no intention of interfering.” There were rather astonishing levels in Loki’s voice that was at once perfectly polite, and yet made clear that he was not pleased about this at all. But since there was no reason he should be annoyed, Sigyn realized what it had to be. 

“Wait a second, are you jealous?” Once she said it, she knew it was true. He’d been seated up the table from her for the feast, close enough to see her but too far to talk. And she’d noticed his mood get progressively more surly until he’d left the hall altogether and not returned until the music had begun.

“Don’t be absurd.” But he wouldn’t look her in the eye, and she smiled. 

“You are the one being absurd.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, and though at first he jerked away, she didn’t let him get away with that and touched him until he subsided to her ministrations. 

“I had to speak to Fandral, he was my table partner. And he is quite full of good cheer, you know that.”

“I do know that. And I know that afterward they throw themselves in his bed,” he muttered. “Overwhelmed by all his charm.” 

The amount of scorn heaped on ‘charm’ made her smile. “He’s been nothing but kind to me, Loki. Never once has he done anything but respect what I choose. And I choose you,” she reminded him, as her finger smoothed the taut skin on his sharp cheekbones and down his jaw. “But you need to accord me the same respect, and not become a bear with a sore tooth every time I speak to someone.” 

“I know, I just… I have seen it before, with him,” he explained haltingly. “So I fear it happening again, and…”

She laid two fingers across his lips to silence him. “Do I know the depth of his courage? Did Fandral beg me to kill him to save the Nine Realms? No, I have not. There is no one else, Loki; there never will be.”

His smile was tentative, but joyous as the reassurance went straight to his heart. His arms clutched her close, and as his mouth met hers, she was reassured in turn that all was well.


End file.
